Separated
by ResidentOfCabin6
Summary: Backlash from Tartarus and a few poorly timed monster attacks leave Percy and Annabeth drugged and separated in a mortal mental hospital. Taken from outside of their school and an unfortunate incident with the Mist, and struggling through flashbacks and night terrors, the two are trapped and surrounded by mortals who 'want nothing more' than to 'help' them. (Canon through BoO)
1. Chapter 1

**Greetoids everyone, merry Christmas! This is the first chapter of an entirely rewritten form of Separated! I sincerely hope you guys enjoy. I've been working, with a little assistance from ell13, to rewrite the story and increase the quality of the writing, since I've grown a lot as a writer since I first started this. I loved the idea, so I wanted to go back and really do it well. Most of the story is pre-written, I just need to finish off the last few chapters, so you needn't worry about regular updates. I should be posting a new chapter every week on Sunday.**

**With all of that said, I really hope you guys enjoy this first chapter (and the rest of the story, too) and stay awesome, everyone!**

**-ROC6**

There was a mousy-haired woman striding determinedly towards a gray, blocky building with a bright sign reading _Goode High_. She made eye contact with a woman out front, her eyebrows knit and a curious gleam in her woody eyes. The guidance counselor at Goode High had called her to meet about a case. It wasn't unexpected, the woman reasoned, she was the head doctor at a professional mental institution for troubled youth, but this was still a relatively rare occurrence. The doctor was curious as to what could lead to a trained professional being necessary to handle a teenager or two. She could honestly say that, in all of her years of expertise, nothing like this had ever happened before.

She glanced back at her car, a sleek black Honda, as though trying to reassure herself that it was, in fact, still there. The school day had just ended and a mass exodus of dead-eyed and messy clothed teenagers was occurring as they attempted to free themselves of the hindrances of school. Luckily for the doctor, and her car, too, she supposed, most of the teenagers were too busy religiously monitoring their phones to pay attention to the strange woman as they expertly weaved through their typical routes. To her dismay, there were very few that were actually legitimately socializing as they left the building, and the doctor felt a stab of nostalgia through her chest, remembering when she was younger and youth thought more about magical worlds than digital ones. So lost in her musings was she that she almost bumped into the woman she was supposed to be meeting.

The counselor was a drab looking woman who held herself as though she had better places to be. Mrs. Drandin, Eleanor recalled her name was, had dark hair half-turned to a metallic gray, which was held in a tight knot on top of her head. The dress she wore was black, straight, without embellishment and stretches down to the floor in a long pencil skirt that lead the doctor to idly wonder how she could even walk in it. She wore a ridiculous amount of makeup to cover her perpetually disdainful face, probably in an attempt to hide the rigid lines clearly etched in her skin. Overall, the counselor just wasn't all that pleasant to look at, though more from her frigid demeanor than anything else. How the woman became a teenage counselor the doctor could not fathom, but the doctor simply could not imagine any patients, _students_, making any mental or emotional progress with a counselor who looked more inclined to sneer than to smile.

By the time the doctor made it to Mrs. Drandin, almost all of the students had cleared out, except for a pair. They were a boy and a girl, both pale with heavily corded muscle. The boy had dark hair, though the doctor couldn't discern the exact shade from their current distance, and the girl wore a messy ponytail of light locks attempting to escape their bindings. The pair, though their stance suggested they were a couple, were standing by an alley. The boy held a glinting bronze sword, narrowed to a wicked point, and the girl brandished a knife of the same metal shimmering with unearthly power. Both were being attacked by a trio of dog-like beasts, each darker than an inky shadow, with glowing ruby eyes and frothing mouths housing deadly sickle teeth. One lunged at the boy, who expertly dodged, landing a heavy blow with his sword. The canine froze mid-leap, as though gravity no longer applied to it, then vanished in a cloud of glittering gold smoke. The doctor had to wrench her gaze away from the spectacle and force her attention back to her meeting with the counselor.

Mrs. Drandin cleared her throat, noticing what the doctor was watching as she feigned a bored look, "Hooligans, the both of them. And it's not their first incident, either-multiple accounts of attacking animals and people. Episodes in class, aggression issues. Obvious trauma of unknown source. They're the students I contacted you in regards to, Dr. Baker."

"Eleanor," the doctor corrected idly, filing the information away for later use. Eleanor Baker pulled out a beat up cell phone, dialing a number with a few efficient swipes, "Hello? This is Dr. Baker. I have two patients at Goode High that I believe we should take under Section thirty-seven."

She hung up a moment later, satisfied with the response. A retrieval squad from the institution by which she was employed was on its way. Eleanor wasn't completely certain what the pair of teenagers were seeing, but she was positive that it was not a bunch of rambunctious cats. She remembers from their case notes that they, like her, have overactive imaginations and suffer from a form of acute schizophrenia, though they were undiagnosed and untreated. With help, she was able to overcome it, and it was her psychologist that inspired her to follow in his footsteps. There was a part of her that felt sorry for having to wrench the teens from their lives, but she couldn't leave them to their own devices. Their case notes indicated them as being both extremely unstable and extremely dangerous.

It was only when Eleanor pulled her eyes from the teens again that she realized the itching on the back of her neck from the piercing gaze Mrs. Drandin was directing at her.

"I called to have them admitted," the doctor explained with a sigh.

An eerie light came over the counselor's face, and her lips peeled back slowly from her teeth, "Wonderful. I'm glad to see some people still see sense."

"Could you send me full copies of their files? And alert their guardians to the situation."

Eleanor shivered as Mrs. Drandin stretched her gruesome smile even wider, "With pleasure."

Suppressing the urge to throw garlic or maybe holy water on the counselor, Dr. Baker turned away, hoping to interact with the woman as little as possible. She may need the teens admitted, which she could do thanks to some recent legislation, that did not mean she had to force herself into the company of an unsympathetic, unfeeling human who took pleasure in the suffering of her wards.

Eleanor and Mrs. Drandin watched together as the teens scared off all of the cats, brandishing their weapons another moment before cleaning and sheathing them. They started to move away just as a glimmering stark white van with a smiley face and the word '_Happy Hills_' printed on the sides pulled up next to the alley. A pair of burly, lumbering men climbed out and nodded at Dr. Baker, and she reluctantly pointed at the teens. The men nodded once, sharply, and took off towards the newest admissions. One grabbed the boy from behind while the other jabbed him harshly in the arm with a syringe and injected him with some variety of tranquilizer, though not before being given what would likely be a pretty major black eye and having his leg kicked out from under him. The girl, who had enough time to plan, attacked the one with the needle, kicking out sharply with her leg and successfully knocking him to the ground. With a quick stride, she was next to him, kicking him the last place he wanted to be kicked with a quick, efficient movement before she turned to the other man.

She was a moment too slow, and the other man grabbed her hair as it spun, and she hesitated a moment before attempting to punch his jaw, but by then it was already too late. The sleep aid had been administered to her as well.

The guard on the ground gradually uncurled from the fetal position he'd curled into, moaning and limping as he made his way over to the van. The other one man carried both unconscious teens, one by one, to the vehicle before climbing into the driver's seat and starting the engine with a purr, pulling quickly away.

Eleanor turned to Mrs. Drandin for what she hoped was the last time, and thanked the maliciously smiling woman for her assistance. Dr. Baker strode back to her car, following the van away.

She had a lot of case notes to read, and she desperately wanted to finish them early enough to not be passing out tomorrow at work. After all, she had some new patients to greet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey all! Alright, so most of you probably don't even remember this strange little story you followed, at which I recommend you read the synopsis. FanFiction doesn't notify readers if a chapter is re-uploaded, so you guys should all go check out chapter 1, as well. What was written of this story has been rewritten, and most of the story, with the exception of the last few chapters, has been pre-written. That doesn't mean, however, that you guys can't review with suggestions since I can easily go back and edit it.**

**This story is going to be updated every Sunday, so you guys don't have to freak out about update schedule. Also, you should all know that this story had some contributions from my friend ell13, and she pretty much co-authored this chapter, so kudos to her.**

**With all that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome!**

**-ROC6**

It felt almost as if Percy's head had been bashed against concrete then had his eyes glued shut. Knowing his luck, he wasn't ruling either out of the question. He pried his eyes open, only to slam them shut again when he was greeted by blinding lights, leaving him to slowly expose his eyes to the brightness of wherever he was, trying to clear the spots from his gaze.

Percy began to be vaguely aware of his surroundings. He was in a room a room he didn't recognize, lying on a rough, scratchy bed. He took notice of a low murmuring about him, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was coming from or decipher the words. When his last memories began to slowly drift back to him, Percy was abruptly flooded by his own questions. He had been taken captive. Where was he now? Where was Annabeth? Did his mom know what happened to him? And if those people had brought him here, what had they done to Annabeth? Who were "those people," and what were their intentions? What were they doing to him? What were they doing to Annabeth? _Annabeth_.

The room he was in was plain, with minimal furnishing. There was a mirror on one wall and cameras in every corner, leaving him to idly wonder if whoever had brought him here would even watch him use the tiny toilet in the corner of the room.

"Annabeth," he croaked out, his voice hoarse and scratchy from disuse. The muttering he had heard before finally paused for a moment, and he heard the sound of rustling: pencil on paper. Then, the conversation continued as if nothing had happened, and it annoyed Percy.

"_Annabeth_," he growled more insistently, and the chatter came to an indefinite end.

"He's awake," a high, airy voice muttered, a strong Southern accent present in each syllable.

Percy listened for a few seconds to people busily shuffling around, until another voice-a man-spoke out, "Should we call in Dr. Baker now?"

"No," the Southern woman replied sternly, "Just wait. Let him recover; regain his senses." Percy was perplexed by this comment, and quite anxious as well. Maybe you would say that to a person who had fainted, but he had been _tranquilized_. What were they planning?

Alas, after a few more silent seconds, the spots began to clear. He could hear keenly now. The blood began to rush through his veins, and his legs and arms-which had been numb to a point of immobilization-were now functioning, albeit sluggishly. With some effort, he tried to lift his head up, but a hand gripped his shoulder lightly, and gently pushed him back down.

"No, no," said the same Southern woman, "You still need to rest, sweetie. Doctor's orders." With his vision back, Percy decided to observe who this person was. In another world, this woman could've been one of Rachel Dare's relatives: she had vivid red hair, though dyed, and freckles speckled her face. However, there was a defining feature that alienated her from Rachel completely. In this woman's eyes was a steely glint, devoid of sympathy, which showed that despite her honeyed tones and familial nicknames, she did not care to be here.

"Annabeth," Percy repeated once more, adamantly. This time, the woman's composure crumbled, and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head emphatically, and threw her hands up into the air in exasperation.

"Yes, yes, she's fine!" the lady snapped, "You'll see her soon enough." Then, remembering all her coworkers and her reputation, her expression softened, reshaping itself as fluidly as an artist shapes clay. "She'll be okay, sugar. But for now, we just want to help _you_." She put on a fake smile, showing all of her straight, pearly white teeth. Percy decided he hated her. _Help_ _him?_ If she _truly_ wanted to "_help_" him, she would answer all of his questions nice and easy, let him see his girlfriend, and wave the two of them goodbye from this godsforsaken...whatever this was.

"Annabeth," Percy said again, like a mantra, "_Where is she?_" Southern Lady helpfully ignored him and picked at her cuticles. _Fine then_, Percy thought bitterly_, so you won't tell me._

In an act of admittedly petty and childish but extremely satisfying revenge, Percy bombarded the woman with several dozens of questions. All to which, she responded, with only minor variations, "We're just trying to help you, sweetie."

"Where am I?"

"We're just trying to help you, sweetie."

"Why am I here?"  
"All we want is to make sure you're 'kay, hon?"  
"Where is Annabeth?"

"Calm down, sugar. Everything's gonna be okay."

"Why won't you answer my questions?"

"Shh...just breathe in...and breathe out. I know it seems a bit scary now, but we only want to help you."

"What is the meaning of life?"  
"Just get your rest, son."

"Am I a flamingo?"

"..."

Realizing that his provocation wasn't feeling as gratifying anymore, and was in fact starting to backfire, Percy's frustration began to swell within him. What kind of sick nursery did they drop him in? With each response, he became more irritated. Fisting his hands, and pushed himself upright to look that lady in the eye; regretting it slightly when he felt his head whir. But he couldn't stop now.

"Listen, lady," he grumbled through gritted teeth, "As helpless as you think I am, I'm sorry to say that I _don't _need help, much less _your_ help. I just want to live a normal life with my girlfriend, then all of this happens, and-ugh! You're _not_ making life much easier. Even if I did have a problem, I figure you wouldn't understand. I've faced more trials at my age than you probably will your whole life. Do you want to make my life worse? Because I wouldn't necessarily consider that 'helping!' So could you most _kindly_ answer my questions, show me Annabeth, and the exit?"

For the umpteenth time in the last few minutes, the room went silent. With an expression of dumb, wide-eyed shock, Southern Lady almost looked like she was going to comply. Then, behind the lady, where the other people had just been milling about the room, the unpleasant comments sparked up again, with his outburst fueling even more negativity to their words.

"Yep, it's another crazy."

"Uncooperative."

"Anger management issues."

"Former depression, possibly still present. Signs of PTSD..."

"Possibly abusive."

"Denial."

_Oh...my outburst...this was a mistake._ Yes, what a lovely thought. That this could all be just a simple error. After his rant, Percy had exhausted his limited energy. _This is __**all**_ _a mistake. A dream, or a vision, maybe. _He collapsed back down on his bed, and was helpless when a needle pierced his arm. _This is a mistake, _he thought with a sleepy grin, then everything went back to darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone! Here we are with Chapter 3! I am still blown away by the response to this, thank you guys so much. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and stay awesome.**

**-ROC6**

When Annabeth opened her eyes, she was engulfed in more darkness, as if she had never opened them in the first place. For a moment, her heart started beating faster and faster because, oh gods, she was in Tartarus again, and she was blind again, and Percy wasn't there, oh gods, where was Percy? Whatifhewasnevercomingback? But she took a deep breath, counting slowly as she let it out, reminding herself she wasn't there anymore. She and Percy had made it out. She was relatively safe. So she asked the obvious questions. Where was she? Where was Percy? Oh, gods.

_Don't panic_, she chided herself. _Just think: what did you last remember?_ Annabeth thought back to before the lights went out. She and Percy were fighting hellhounds. Yes, that sounded right. Then...then these two burly men came. They attacked them, with...needles! They got Percy, but Annabeth kicked one of them. She remembered a pinch on her arm, and then...nothing.

She had to find Percy.

"Percy?" Annabeth called out softly, "Percy?" Silently, Annabeth cursed. They promised to not ever be separated, never again. Her vision blurred, and she blinked vainly a few times against the burning in her eyes as a tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away.

_Never again_. Her mind turned those words over repeatedly like a broken record. _Never again, never again, never again_.

She needs to calm down. _Get a grip! You have to find Percy. You have to know where you are, and why you are here. You cannot succumb to fear, or panic, or worry_.

Annabeth slowly sat up from the bed she was lying on, ignoring the dizziness that whatever she'd been drugged with had left in her system. How she had gotten there was unknown to her, and the lights came on at her movement, leaving her free to survey the room she was in. The floor was a white tile. Three of the walls were painted a pastel yellow, with the fourth one being entirely a mirror. Most likely, the mirror was a one-way window for viewing her and her behavior. The ceiling was simply a plain white, and in each of the corners of the room surveillance cameras hung in plain sight. The room itself was fairly empty: just the bed she was sitting on, which was a metal frame, paper thin mattress and a pair of scratchy sheets with something the size of a sock ball meant as a pillow, the wooden table and chair over in the corner, and in the opposite corner sat a porcelain sink and toilet, with no privacy from the rest of the room.

Annabeth swung her legs over the side of the bed and realized she was wearing a pair of white sweatpants and a light yellow t-shirt that definitely weren't her clothes. _Wait, does that mean someone saw me na-, _she realized, _you know what, I'm going to try not to think about that_. More importantly, she realized, she had no weapon. If she was attacked by a monster, she had no weapon. A momentary flash of fear crossed her mind, only to be replaced by grim determination. If Percy could kill the Minotaur at twelve with no training or weapon, then she'd hopefully be okay.

Annabeth walked over to the mirror and stared intently at it, waiting for one of the people she knew were behind it to speak. Even though whatever she was drugged with was making her terribly groggy, she continued to stare. When, after probably about fifteen minutes, the people on the other side didn't reveal themselves to her, she stared directly at one of the cameras, "Are you ever going to show yourselves, or do I have to continue to stare at the mirror?"

A moment later, the glass became transparent, revealing what looked like your typical office, except there were about half a dozen people inside of a workspace meant for one, making it appear small and cramped.

"-eems to be fascinated with the mirror," one of the people was in the middle of saying.

Annabeth mentally took note of that particular idiot, before beginning coldly, "Hello everyone. Would you kindly tell me where I am and why I'm here."

All of the people in the room realized she could see and hear them now, and one with a Southern accent replied slowly, as if she thought Annabeth was an idiot, "Don't be scared, sweetie, we're just trying to help you."

Annabeth, realizing she could use the stupidity of these people to her advantage, created an expression of absolute innocence on her face, widening her eyes and knitting her eyebrows together, "I don't know why I'm here, can someone help me?"

The people were about to answer when the room suddenly disappeared, and suddenly she was walking through a crowd of monsters. She felt like a ghost, nothing but a wisp of herself. She felt Percy more than saw him, walking next to her with his sword at the ready, and he looked as though he was dead already and had been for centuries, his eyes glassy marbles popped into his skull and his body frail and weak, terrifyingly emaciated. She knew she couldn't be any better. Her body felt insubstantial as if it could blow away in even the gentlest breeze. Her sword hung from her belt, and she kept her right hand on the hilt, ready to draw it at the smallest sign that their disguise wasn't working, with her left hand clasped firmly in Percy's. He may have looked dead, but his hand was still warm, and it still provided some comfort to know that he was right there with her. She could just see the Doors of Death over the top of the crowd of monsters, chained in place and heavily guarded. Then, time melted away and suddenly she and Percy were standing right in front of the doors. She saw the titans, Bob's brothers, guarding the doors lazily, and her heart involuntarily sped up at the thought of having to face multiple titans at once to get through the doors. She wasn't even sure she could face one, after being in Tartarus for so long. She glanced at Percy, drawing her sword, and he nodded.

In a normal situation, her flashback would have ended relatively quickly, with nothing more to show for it than some confused passerby and a distraught, horror-filled expression playing on her face. Unfortunately, as the doctors saw Annabeth freeze mid-conversation, her eyes focused on something far away as her expression contorted with fear, they didn't hesitate to take actions to help her.

Quickly, they dosed a tranquilizer into her arm, ignoring her whispered murmur of "_Percy Percy Percy Percy."_

While the doctors were celebrating how they bravely helped the troubled teen escape what plagued her mind, Annabeth remained trapped in her flashback until the medicine wore off may hours later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ooh, look, a chapter! It's maaagggiiiicccc. Nah, pre-written, but might as well be the same thing. Anyway, here's the next chapter. You guys okay wth no chapter names? I figured that was fine, but eh. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I read and love all of your reviews. They make me so happy, and feedback/constructive criticism is much appreciated. Reminder to thank my editor ell13, she helped a lot with this chapter, more than usual anyway.**

**I just spent like an hour and a half editing this, so I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome!**

**-ROC6**

Percy could clearly remember the images. The burning air and acid ground and tortured sounds. He could remember watching her wither away before his eyes, calling for him as he tried desperately to save her. But she was blind and cursed and he couldn't help her. He could do nothing to help her. The dreams always hurt more than the actual event, it was the smothering of hope, the realization of failure, that really got him.

He remembered yesterday. He must have been dreaming, but it felt so real. He'd thought he'd heard Annabeth's voice, as though she were on the other side of the wall, but that couldn't be. He doubted that the doctors in the institution could be so cruel to put them so close together, yet so far apart. Was she thinking of him? Percy wondered. But he knew she was. He hoped she was alright, there was nothing he could do. Nothing she could do. But he remembered how desperate she was last time they had been kept apart. And more importantly, he worried about how she'd handle Tartarus. Neither of them had recovered, and he didn't know how she'd handle being alone. (He tried not to think about how he'd handle it.)

"Percy!" a female voice yelled in an exasperated tone.

He blinked, looking around as he was pulled, yet again, from his musings. He was in an office of sorts, sitting in a chair in front of a desk. On the other side of the desk was a woman, the doctor. The woman was professional, but not unapproachable, and there was a mirthful glow in her gaze. She had kind brown eyes, and brown hair pulled into a bun that was likely once neat, but her hair had long since started trying to escape. She wore a pale blue shirt with a gray suit jacket on top. There was some kind of label on the desk, but to him it looked like _Bh. Dekar _upon first glance, and he didn't bother trying to decipher it.

The nurses had woken him up this morning and marched him down sterile halls for a meeting with the doctor, a psychiatrist. He'd objected, demanded to see Annabeth. They'd only laughed, and forced him into the worn, cushy chair across from the doctor. At which point he'd promptly tuned out.

The lady noticed that she had his attention, then recited as though she'd already said it to him, holding in what seemed to be a chuckle, "Hello Percy, I am Dr. Baker, as you can probably tell from the name tag."

"Where's Annabeth?"

"Somewhere safe. Percy, you can't see Annabeth right now, it's crucial to your recovery, so please stop asking. So, Percy. Tell me a little bit about yourself."

"No. Take me to Annabeth."

"Percy-"

"Doctor, there's nothing you can do for me. Please take me to Annabeth and we'll kindly check out, thank you."

The lady, Dr. Baker pursed her lips, "I doubt that Percy-"

He shook his head, and it occurred to him he might just be acting like an oversized toddler, but whatever, "You can't help me, so show me Annabeth and let me leave."

"Percy-"

"No."

The doctor sighed, her brow slightly knit, "Please, I just want you to tell me a little bit about yourself."

"If I tell you about myself do I get to leave?"

Dr. Baker hesitated, seemingly weighing the question in her mind, "Possibly."

"Alright. My name's Percy, I live in New York and I like the color blue."

The doctor sighed again, "I need more than that. Tell me about your life."

Percy scowled, "I live in New York. Are we done yet? Can I see Annabeth now?"

With a resigned expression, the doctor shook her head slightly, "No-"

"Then I'm not telling you anything."

The doctor frowned, a hint of regret coloring her gaze as she called softly, but with a steady undertone, "Judith!"

A nurse clad in light yellow scrubs entered the room. She grasped a needle in one hand.

He turned to the doctor, who was perched primly at her desk with her hands clasped in front of her, asking incredulously, "You're going to drug me?"

Suddenly, two hands were holding him down, and Percy acted on instinct, elbowing his attacker in what seemed like their face, earning a _crunch_ in response. He then leaped to his feet, kicking the nurse, who seemed to be harboring a broken nose, in the side of the knee. She was down for the count.

Percy glanced incredulously at the doctor again as three more nurses flooded the cramped office, two men and a woman. Percy jumped at the first man, punching him square in the jaw, then locked in a kick to the second man's leg. The first man was coming at him again when he felt hands grabbing his arm as he pulled back for another punch, and almost immediately something entered his arm. A needle.

He swore, cursing himself for having forgotten the third nurse as she grinned triumphantly. The first nurse that had been summoned, Judith, injected something into his arm, and a simultaneous sensation of cold and warmth filled it. The liquid was cold, but as it plowed through his veins it left behind a sensation of warmth. A cozy feeling, almost like he was snuggled in bed. Come to think of it, that sounded like a really good idea. Bed. Oh, what he wouldn't give to just sleep right now.

He snapped his eyes open, sending a glare at the doctor. She was unable to suppress her flinch, and he internally counted it as a win. Percy rushed to collect himself as the weight of the drowsiness continuously tried to overcome him.

"Alright Percy, we're going to try this again. Tell me. How did you meet Annabeth?" the doctor queried, a smile on her face but a hint of regret lit her eyes.

Her smile was so nice... No, he wasn't going to listen, "I just want to sleep. Can I see Annabeth now?"

"May I," she corrected absently, "But no. The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner you can sleep."

"Alright," Percy finally replied. He knew that while he couldn't say too much, he had to give her something or he was never getting out of here, "I woke up and she said 'You drool in your sleep.'"

"That's nice," her soothing voice replied, "Where were you, Percy?"

"Um, New York."

"Do you remember where in New York?"

"No," he lied.

"But she was there when you woke up, yes?"

"Yeah, she was." By now his words were slurring, the urge to sleep was getting stronger. He forced his eyes from drooping. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be this tired. He tried to fight it, scowling as the drug tried to force its way through his system.

"Do you know why?" Dr. Baker asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I had fallen asleep somewhere," Percy fibbed again. _Sleep_. The word sounded so good now. He just wanted...sleep. No. He blinked a few times, trying to force his way through the drug's effects and to awaken his senses. He could handle a little drowsiness.

"Okay," the doctor scribbled down something on her clipboard, "Is Annabeth your girlfriend?"

Percy smiled guardedly, wearily, thinking about Annabeth. Being with Annabeth, kissing Annabeth, hugging Annabeth, dousing Annabeth with water, "Yeah."

"Describe your favorite memory," Dr. Baker said flatly.

His _favorite_ memory? Every memory was a favorite if it had Annabeth. Well, unless it was in Tartarus. Or when she was kidnapped by Dr. Thorn. Or when Luke had turned Titan. Or...ugh, nevermind, then.

"Um…" Percy hesitated. _Pick one!_ his brain screamed, but he knew he had to be careful, "Well, there was this one time when we were watching fireworks during the summer."

"On July 4th?" Baker asked.

"Uh, yes," Percy said, "And we just kind of talked all night and it was really fun." The doctor nodded, and immediately bombarded him with more questions about his girlfriend as if the previous one hadn't mattered.

Finally, Percy was hit with something unexpected.

"Have you ever had any problems with Annabeth?" the doctor interrogated. Percy didn't quite understand the question. Of course they had problems. Everyone has problems. Couples can never be problem-less. He stared at the woman blankly for a moment, until realization crept into his nebulous mind. She meant problems. Serious issues. He kept his gaze carefully guarded.

Dr. Baker sighed, "Perhaps you've had an extremely heated argument? Has she ever treated you wrongly? Maybe there was a traumatizing experience you went through?" Percy warned himself not to think too much of Tartarus. If this doctor already thought him insane, then telling her about Tartarus would _definitely_ not help his case.

So, he answered nonchalantly, his face a mask of emotions despite the sleep pulling at the edges, "Nope."

The doctor narrowed her brown eyes at him, but didn't say anything about it, "Alright, you're dismissed until tomorrow."

A pair of nurses came to escort him back to his room just as Dr. Baker murmured lowly, probably not expecting him to hear, "Whatever traumatic things you went through, I will find out. Nurse, start the medication _felixfacile deiciuntur_."


	5. Chapter 5

**Here you guys go, another chapter. You all must be getting really spoiled by now. I've been working on a one-shot not in any way related to this story, but I feel the need to share that anyway, so anyone who follows my work can look forward to that. Remember, feedback and constructive criticism are much appreciated. I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome.**

**-ROC6**

Dr. Baker had learned long ago that someone's eyes told you more about a person than their words did. Their mouth could tell whatever lies they wanted, but how they really felt was often still expressed in their eyes. She patiently met the eyes of the golden haired girl perched on the patients' chair across her desk in the vain hope she could get a feel for her personality before starting their session. The boy's, Percy's, were a rich green and held so many things she could only begin to fathom them. The girl in front of her's eyes, like the boy's, were fascinating. They were a vivid gray of so many layers it was like staring into an infinite pool of molten metal, and as she examined the girl she could get a feel for who she was. Her eyes were cold, calculating, intelligent and clever. Yet, at the same time, they were warm and kind, and weary, tired and sad. Broken. Those gray eyes were aged well beyond the years of the girl, showing pain and sorrow and suffering beyond anything a seventeen-year-old should have experienced. This piqued the curiosity of the doctor, as she wasn't even sure she had experienced anything like what was guarded in the girl's eyes, not even with the childhood she had.

A twinge of pity flashed across her mind, but she wasn't going to force the girl to answer the questions purely to sate her growing curiosity. No, she couldn't do that. What she needed was for the girl to grow comfortable with her, so she would talk freely in her presence. Eleanor needed to understand what had happened to the girl so she could help her.

The girl inspected her for a moment, just Eleanor had been inspecting her, before bending her features into an innocent smile that didn't quite match what her eyes were saying, "Excuse me, Ma'am. Can I go home?"

The doctor sighed. Years of being a psychiatrist had taught her how to spot a lie, and of course, it was too much to expect the girl in front of her to make it easy, "Annabeth. I'm not buying the innocent act, so you can drop it."

The teen scowled and sent a withering glare the psychiatrist's way that startled her with its ferocity, causing her heart to start beating significantly faster in her chest. She sincerely hoped she hadn't paled too much from Annabeth's glare. The teen spoke in a cold voice, "Then I should let you know that I know you didn't tell our parents where we are, that we were abducted without permission. Do they even know we are in an insane asylum? Have you contacted my father? My mother? Percy's parents?"

The girl studied her again, "You haven't. You think you're helping us. Well. Let me tell you. We were doing just fine on our own, thank you very much, and nothing you can say will help us. If anything, you'll make it worse."

Eleanor opened her mouth to object, planning to protest the girl's claims. After all, they'd already freed her from what seemed like a flashback. Unfortunately, the instant the girl saw her mouth open, she cut in, "You're exasperated. You think you helped me out of my flashback. Guess what; you didn't. Instead, you and your _thnitos_ (mortal) drugs trapped me inside of it. For hours. I have a right to be mad, and while you may have gotten my boyfriend to talk, you will be getting nothing out of me."

Eleanor Baker was at a loss, but she was not to be intimidated by some teenaged girl, "Nurse!"

The nurse came in, and three guards, two black eyes, and a broken arm later, the drug had been administered to Annabeth, whose eyes had momentarily widened in surprise. The constant movement the girl had been making, though the doctor hadn't noticed until its absence, had halted.

"So, Annabeth, tell me about yourself," Dr. Baker noted that there was no outward change in her behavior, the only sign the drug had worked was the accentuated tiredness in her eyes. She wondered what could give the teenaged girl the training to hide her feelings so well.

Annabeth laughed disconcertingly cruelly, vaguely reminding Dr. Baker of the sound of metal grating against itself. Annabeth stared the doctor in the eyes, her stormy ones flashing like gunmetal, loaded and ready to murder, already covered in the dust of another kill. They reminded Eleanor of a predator stalking its prey, a distinctly unsettling image. Annabeth spoke again, her voice terrifyingly steady when she should have been struggling to stay awake, "Never will you get me to talk. All you need to know about me is that I have been through hell and nothing you can do will ever crack me open."

Dr. Baker looked carefully at her patient's eyes and could tell she wasn't lying. Deciding they had attempted enough therapy for the day, she had Annabeth taken back to her room. Once the girl was gone, Eleanor began frantically scribbling notes on her notepad. The medicine administered to the girl during their session was an incredibly strong sleep aid. It made the patient tired enough that it hindered cognitive thinking, such as the notion to lie, since it was already taking too much of the patient's energy to stay awake, much less lie adequately. The fact that Annabeth Chase had handled herself so well as to keep the exhaustion so well hidden made the doctor truly worried about what lay hidden in her past.

Eleanor scribbled a few more notes onto her notepad, then scribbled messily at the stop to start the _felixfacile deiciuntur_, circling it a few times for emphasis.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, everyone! I'm back with another chapter. I hope that makes you peeps all happy. Once again, not too much to say here, so I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome.**

**-ROC6**

**P.S. Realized I forgot this, and it goes for all chapters, I own nothing you recognize.**

Once again, Percy woke up to find the blank walls of his cell, sorry, _room_, staring back at him. As he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, as per usual, his first thought was of Annabeth. Was she okay? Had they hurt her? He shook his head ever so slightly as if the action could shake the thoughts from his mind. It was obvious by now that the doctors and nurses or whatever weren't going to tell him anything about Annabeth, so it was pointless to dwell on a useless topic, though his heart cringed at the thought. What he needed now was a plan, though those were Annabeth's specialty. He suppressed the thought, forcing his mind to more productive tasks.

How could he escape? The facility was seemingly incredibly well monitored, with security cameras at every turn and nurses monitoring the halls. It'd take a lot of planning to infiltrate their security measures. More importantly, though, how could he bring Annabeth with him? He didn't even know where she was. He kept feeling like she was close, but he knew the doctors wouldn't be so stupid as to put them side by side. Besides, the facility was likely separated by gender or something. Still, though, he felt an underlying current of distress running through him. He needed to know if she was okay.

Percy growled softly. This was going absolutely nowhere. He got up, and, as always seemed to happen in this place, he felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him. He brought a hand up to massage his temples in the vain hope it would make the feeling go away. Percy started pacing and, carefully shielding what he was doing from the view of the cameras, he felt the inside of his shirt's breast pocket, trying not to look so it seemed like a pointless habit. Because for some reason a mental hospital thought they should have pockets. Honestly, Percy thought it was stupid, but there must have been some logic behind it, otherwise, it wouldn't have been added. Either way, it was good for him because he felt his hand close around a familiar ballpoint pen. He almost sighed in relief, before realizing that doing so could give Riptide away. He removed his hand from his pocket.

Percy went over to the wall he would have sworn he had heard Annabeth's screams through and held his palm up to it. What was she doing now? He pressed his palm against it, and he could have sworn he could sense Annabeth doing the same. Her calloused hands flashed in his memory, the way they waved through the air when she was talking about something that excited her, the speed at which they flew over keys. He tapped out the one rhythm Annabeth had taught him of Morse Code, one he used to see Leo tapping a lot. I love you. He heard soft thumps as the same pattern was tapped back, and he smiled as a feeling of elation flowed into him. The doctors may be idiots, but Annabeth was right next to him, right through the flimsy wall, and she was alright. The knowledge made Percy's heart soar with joy.

Just then, a part of the wall slid out of place, and a nurse clad in the typical yellow scrubs marched through carrying a simple foam tray. Percy watched silently as she placed it on the table, then left the room. He waited until he was sure nothing else was going to happen before walking over to it. Sitting on the white styrofoam was a plastic red plate like one might see at a cheap party, piled with about three medium sized pancakes. He frowned pettily. Usually, Percy ate more than that. There was a red plastic cup, matching the plate and like one might get at a party, with orange juice inside, and there were a plastic butter knife and a spork, along with some of those cafeteria packets of butter and syrup. Wouldn't want to give him something he could hurt himself with, now would they? Thinking about the food, he realized how ravenous he was, and, deciding it posed no immediate threat, he scarfed it down.

He then noticed something. Sitting next to his nearly empty cup of orange juice was a simple white capsule. As far as Percy figured, he had to take it, as they were watching him carefully. He sighed. There had to be some way to get out of this. He looked desperately around the room until his searching gaze landed on the sink over in the corner. He drank what was left of his orange juice, then picked up the pill. Percy figured, he was the son of Poseidon, right? So water healed him. He filled the cup with water until it was almost overflowing, then proceeded to drop the pill in. He hoped the medication was weak enough that the water would heal him in time.

With a quick prayer, he gulped down the water and the pill. For a few moments, nothing happened, and Percy started to relax, thinking that the pill wasn't going to do anything too bad to him. Of course, the Fates had other plans.

Just as he relaxed and went to go sit on his bed, something felt off. At first, it wasn't much, just a slight fuzziness at the edge of his vision, and the nagging of his instincts that something wasn't right. He froze, knowing his instincts were usually right. The fuzziness started to ebb away for a moment, and he allowed himself to hope the water was counteracting the medicine. Then, the fuzziness returned tenfold and began moving in towards the center of his vision, and he tried to tense his muscles, hoping vainly it might stop whatever the pill was doing to him. To his horror, he found that he couldn't. If anything, his muscles grew more relaxed. Crap. He panicked for a moment longer until all traces of panic vanished, leaving only confusion in its place as the world spun around him, a whirlwind of colors.

Why was he worried? There was no need. Everything in the world was great! It was colorful and pretty, and… What was he thinking again? Who cares? Life was great! If only Annabeth was here with him… Wait? Who? Why was he thinking like this? For a moment, his sporadic thoughts stopped spiraling, grounding at the thought of Annabeth, but this momentary burst of sanity left almost as soon as it had arrived. Who cared about some Annabelle? Life was perfect! Life was great! Life was painless! Life was pure happiness! Life was-hey look! A butterfly!


	7. Chapter 7

**Hola peeps. How are ya? Anyway, here's another update. I don't think you guys realize just how happy all of your reviews make me. Seriously, it's unreal. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and stay awesome!**

**-ROC6**

Annabeth kept mulling over the conversation with the doctor. Something about it deeply unsettled her. She felt atrocious for frightening a mortal like that, regardless of whether or not the mortal was aggravating her, but she was hoping intimidation would convince the doctor to leave her alone. Some part of it scared her, though. There was a nagging feeling at the back of her mind, and she almost hadn't wanted to stop. She had felt dark. Evil. And the scary thing was that a part of her enjoyed it. There was a part of her that hadn't wanted to stop, and it had taken all of her willpower not to listen to that part of her.

If she was honest, even though she tried not to show it, she was terrified by what Percy had done to Akhlys down in Tartarus. She was afraid that someday he'd turn dark, as dark as he looked while torturing the goddess, preparing to kill her with her own poison. And while she had never really thought about it, she realized now that she had a side like that too. She had just shown it to the doctor, show it with the hardness in her eyes and the coldness in her voice, and she was terrified even more. What if she turned into the girl the doctor saw? That's what frightened her most.

Pushing the more negative train of thought from her mind, she began puzzling over the more practical aspects of the situation. As previously established, she was weaponless. She and Percy, both powerful demigods in their own rights had been in this facility for at least a couple days yet, and any monsters in the vicinity would likely be honing in on their location. Except, she was fairly certain that it had been more than a few days, as a powerful sedative had been administered to her on multiple occasions. As a result, that would mean any monsters within range of their scent would likely have already attacked. So what was stopping them?

The realization dawned on her, and she cursed her own stupidity. Of course, their scent was being hidden the same way the scent of sick demigods were hidden. Hospitals are mortal strongholds, with dozens, at least, of mortals occupying them at a time, which would make demigod scents obscure and hard to track. Not to mention the strong scents of antiseptic and medication, which are already overwhelming to mortals, would virtually eliminate their scent for the time being.

Looking to idle away the time, Annabeth began plotting possible escapes inside her mind. Countless ideas crossed her mind, but none of them seemed satisfactory. She'd been praying to her mother every night, or at least, every night she was conscious, but she knew her mother could do nothing to help. Gods couldn't interfere with the affairs of mortals, and most definitely not with their children, so the best she could hope for from her mother was for her to send dreams to other demigods.

After a while, her ADHD got the best of her and she ceased staring blankly at the ceiling, choosing instead to haul herself off of the bed, all of the while cursing whatever sedative they'd most recently injected her with. She walked over to the wall, giving it a skeptical, nostalgic look. On her way to the appointment with the doctor, she had seen that the room next to hers on that side was Percy's. Was Percy okay? She knew he'd be worrying himself sick over her, and she hoped that he wouldn't do anything too rash, though she suspected otherwise. He always was impulsive, and while that helped him stay alive out in the world, it would do him no good here.

She reached up and pressed her palm to the wall, hoping he would think of her and do the same. Annabeth imagined his sea green eyes and raven hair, wishing she were looking into them. She held the position a moment and was about to move her hand when she heard a knock. The only morse code she had taught him. I love you. Her heart soared and she knocked it back. If only she had taught him more, then they could plan their escape together.

Suddenly, a portion of the wall slid away, and a nurse came scuttling in carrying a tray. Annabeth memorized the location of the door. That could come in handy. A moment later the nurse left, and Annabeth walked over to the table. It was a styrofoam tray, a plastic plate with three average sized pancakes on it, a butter knife, a spork, a pill, and a plastic cup filled with orange juice. She contemplated how to get around the pill. Most likely, it was something to make her easier to control and possibly ease depression.

For a second Annabeth considered using the acidic properties of the orange juice, but the idea was dismissed almost as soon as it entered her mind. Eventually, she decided on a plan.

She ate the pancakes and waited until there was just one gulp of orange juice left. She popped the pill in her mouth so the cameras could clearly see, and took the last sip of orange juice, keeping the pill wedged in her teeth and she emphasized swallowing the juice. She hoped it wouldn't dissolve in her mouth. She then went over to the sink and wiped her mouth, concealing the pill in her hand. Then she pretended to wash the syrup off her hands while in actuality, she was washing the pill down the drain. Not the most eco-friendly, but hey, it worked.

Now she just had to hope that if they gave it to Percy, whatever method he came up with to neutralize it had worked.

**AnnaUnicorn: Happy birthday! Sorry I'm about... a week... Late. Even though I've been on FanFiction for over two years now, I still forget about the PM function most of the time (it only just occurred to me while typing this out).**

**Daziy is SoniQ: Hopefully, some of your questions were answered in this chapter, but I'm so glad you went and asked them. Let me know if you have any more questions, since other readers were likely asking the same things.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, so hi. Hello. Greetings. Whatever. The important thing, is there are now over 100 follows on this story, so I wanted to say thank you guys so much, and thank you all for all of the reviews you leave. Also, right now, the entirety of this story has been pre-written, so you guys can look forward to regular updates up through the end of this story. Yay? Yay. Alrighty, that's really all I wanted to say here, so I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome.**

**-ROC6**

It was the fourth day since Dr. Baker had started the patients on the medication. The girl, Annabeth, seemed to have some variation of an immunity to the Felix, and while that was rare and improbable, it wasn't completely impossible, and the doctor was in the process of researching another medication that could be used in its place that wouldn't cause a bad reaction with her ADHD. The boy, Percy, on the other hand, had been a model patient.

They'd given him three days of peace to attempt to acclimate himself to the medicine. Part of the way the Felix worked involved triggering the release of chemicals in the brain that caused severe happiness to the point of incoherency and those that weren't used to it often were quite out of it, so to speak, when they first began the medication. This was because of that, when combined with the slight tranquilization to cause relaxed muscles and less cynical judgment, a feeling of being disconnected from reality often came about, and patients often lost their senses for a few days.

After Percy's three days were up, his daily therapy was scheduled to resume, which was why he'd been brought to her office a few moments ago. He would likely still be a little loopy until he fully adjusted to the medication, but not to the point where Eleanor couldn't resume her attempted treatment of him.

"Good morning, Percy," she greeted, folding her hands neatly in front of her, "How are you today?"

The raven haired teen, who had been drumming his fingers on his legs and looking around the office with child-like fascination, turned to look at her, "Good morning Mrs. Doctor Lady! I feel great! Better than I have since T- Better than I have in a long time!"

The doctor noted that his pupils were still slightly dilated, which was normal, at this point, and she smiled warmly at him, "That's great, Percy."

He smiled childishly at the praise, then looked at her overly seriously, "How are you, today, Mrs. Doctor Lady?"

The Felix could, due to the elevated levels of happiness, induce a childlike state of mind in patients, and at the moment her current patient was acting like a six-year-old on a sugar rush. She was exhausted just looking at him.

"It's Dr. Baker," the dark haired woman corrected gently, "And I'm doing well, thank you for asking. Would you be willing to tell me a little about yourself?"

The teen nodded vigorously, "Okay. My name's Percy, and my favorite color's blue. I live with my mom, Paul and Annabeth in an apartment in New York City, and I like to spend my weekends at camp."

"Would you be willing to tell me anything about this camp?" Dr. Baker coaxed gently, still wary of the child-like state of mind the medicine had currently induced in him.

The green eyed boy looked vaguely hesitant, hedging about what was safe to say, but he must have approved of something about her, as he nodded regardless, "Alright. But it's a secret, okay?"

"My lips are sealed," the brown eyed woman assured him, picking up her pen and pulling her notes sheet closer.

Percy relaxed, shoulders visibly losing their tenseness, "Good. 'Cause no one can know about this. It's called Camp Half-Blood, and it's a special camp for people like me."

Transcribing what he said, the doctor glanced up and made eye contact with him, "Special people like you?"

"Yeah- People with ADHD and dyslexia," he explained, which seemed plausible to the doctor, until her blood chilled at his next statement, "'Cause we're half-god, and all that."

"Half-god?" the doctor queried, dropping her pen suddenly and deciding she'd take notes from the recording. She leaned over her desk, folding her hands on the polished surface in front of her, "What do you mean, you're half-_god_?"

He looked at her seriously, his eyes vaguely unfocused, "I need you to pinky swear that you won't tell anyone."

She held her pinky out solemnly, completing the required ritual, which seemed to relax him again. Eleanor had a feeling that this was something he kept closely guarded and she worried that if she didn't get the whole explanation out of him now, then he might never elaborate. She watched him attentively, watching cautiously for any shifts in body language.

"Yup," the teen popped the 'p', "We're demigods, half Greek or Roman god. My dad's Poseidon, but shhh, you can't tell _anyone_."

"Honey," Dr. Baker said softly, trying to keep the sympathy out of her voice, "The Greek gods aren't real."

Percy shook his head adamantly, "Nuh-uh, they are too. You just don't know 'cause of the Mist and 'cause you're a mortal."

"And does Annabeth believe this, too?"

"Of course," the green eyed teen said, giving Dr. Baker a strange look, as though he couldn't fathom what she was suggesting, "Annabeth's mom is Athena."

Attempting to discern the extent of his and his girlfriend's mental illness, the doctor asked, "Can you tell me how you found out you were a demigod? Can you explain everything about the Greek-and Roman-gods?"

The 'Son of Poseidon' looked hesitant, but nodded, "It all started when I was twelve…


	9. Chapter 9

**Hola ustedes. Behold, the mighty chapter. I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome. :)**

**-ROC6**

Annabeth's fingers danced boredly across her thigh, tapping out a rhythm no one else could understand as she idled away her time. The past few days had been a nightmare, mostly due to the fact that she'd had nothing to do for hours on end, leaving her with a vague itching sensation in her limbs. Clearly, her ADHD was not impressed. Compounding her boredom, Annabeth was constantly on high alert, her senses watching for monsters that likely wouldn't come. In combination, it's safe to say that the last few days of doing absolutely nothing were absolutely torturous. And, if she was frank with herself, she wouldn't be surprised if the sheer boredom involved with this whole experience may end up being enough to drive her insane.

With all of the time she had to herself, one would think it would be easy for her to design some form of a working escape plan, but the place _was _a mental institution, designed to keep even the most mentally unstable person within its walls. And, much to her chagrin, the best plan she'd come up with so far involved a breakout on foot, taking down guards and nurses, opening Percy's door and making a run for it. Even the most inexperienced person could see, though, that a plan of that sort clearly wouldn't work, especially in a facility where people are on constant alert for escapees. After all, a hospital such as this one wouldn't want to risk escaping patients.

And thus, that left Annabeth with trying to convince the doctor that she and Percy were balanced, well-rounded individuals that had no need to be locked up and monitored, though she knew Percy was probably harming the situation more than helping it. She doubted he was trying to do it, he just had this inconvenient tendency of blurting out exactly what he was thinking at any given moment And while that was somewhat useful for a relationship, it was completely unhelpful for a highly delicate situation such as their own.

Knowing him, though, he likely spent the entirety of the therapy sessions making endearingly annoying comments of no actual value to the doctor. At least, Annabeth hoped that that was what he was doing, because if it wasn't, then the doctor got through to him somehow, then things just got a whole lot harder.

When the panel in the sunshine yellow wall slid open, not unlike the door of a minivan, and revealed a nurse clad in yellow scrubs, Annabeth leapt gracefully to her feet. She knew it was the only time she'd get to leave her room that day, as it was time to be escorted to a therapy session with the doctor. The blonde followed the nurse easily, willing to take any chance to escape the room that was feeling more and more like a prison cell, and when she was instructed to sit down in front of the desk where the doctor was sitting, she sat gracefully down and greeted the doctor with a smile.

Dr. Baker gave her a soft smile, "I'm good, thanks for asking. I believe last time we were here you were talking about how you found the camp you go to over the summer."

"Yes," the straight-backed, gray-eyed teen replied, playing up the role of friendly teenaged girl, "I told you how I ran away from home and managed to end up in New York where I stumbled upon this camp, which turned out to be specifically designed for children and teenagers with ADHD and dyslexia. It's actually where I met Percy since he started going there when we were both twelve."

"Ah, yes," the doctor said, writing down notes on something Annabeth had said, "Your boyfriend was actually telling me about this camp earlier."

"Oh really?" Annabeth commented, raising an eyebrow with carefully schooled features and praying to the gods that he didn't do anything stupid.

"Yeah," the doctor replied nonchalantly, "He told me it was called 'Camp Half-Blood'."

As much as she wanted to react to the fact that the doctor knew the name of the camp, and why, for the love of the gods would Percy tell her that, Annabeth kept her expression carefully controlled in an expression of mild-mannered interest, "Yeah, a bit of an unusual name if you ask me."

"He also said," the doctor tucked her pen behind her ear and in her mousy hair, which was pulled up in a bun, "That you both believe that you're-oh, what was the term he used again-demigods. Half Greek or Roman god."

Annabeth's blood ran cold, and though she tried to hide it, she knew she flinched and that an expression of mixed fear and horror flashed across her face. She also knew that the doctor saw it, and mentally started cursing herself for being so amateur.

Contorting her expression into one of shock and concern, she tried for an innocent, sympathy-inducing voice, "He really thinks that?"  
Sighing, the doctor folded her arms neatly in front of her, "Annabeth, I understand that you just want to get out of here, and don't think that you have a problem, but we both know that you have a problem, and it'll do more for yourself and your recovery if you just admit it."

"I don't have a problem," Annabeth replied coldly, her attempts at being friendly shutting down, then she prayed to her mother for understanding, "And I don't believe in any gods. I'm an atheist."

The doctor sighed again, which was really starting to annoy Annabeth, and stared imploringly at the teen, "I'm aware the medication we've been giving you hasn't been working, but we aren't able to find another one on such short notice that's compatible with your condition. As a result, should we decide it's imperative to put you on a medication, it will be a stronger, concentrated version of the same medicine given to you via injection after every session. I was hoping you'd be cooperative enough that the measure wouldn't be necessary, but you're starting to force my hand."

Annabeth's lips were pressed tightly together, and she refused to say anything more.

The doctor, annoyingly, sighed _again_, and pressed a button on her desk, requesting a few nurses be sent to her office, while Annabeth watched impassively, trying not to show how much the idea of being medicated was aggravating her.

Turning regretfully back to her patient, the doctor commented sadly, "Last call?"

The blonde teen only shook her head stiffly in response, and not a moment later a few nurses arrived, and through sheer numbers they were eventually able to subdue Annabeth. She felt a gentle prick in her arm, and a slight burning sensation as something was injected into her veins.

Then she felt nothing at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**I just wanted to thank you all for the fantastic feedback this story has been getting. It makes me ridiculously happy, and I love reading each and every one of your reviews. So, 111 follows, 88 reviews, 52 favorites. It's a fantastic response I never expected, and thank you guys so much. I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome.**

**-ROC6**

Percy's eyes felt like someone had poured sand in them then super-glued them together. His thoughts felt as though they were wading through a pool of jello, and there was a slight thickness in his ears, separating him from the rest of the world. Nevertheless, he pried his eyes open, slowly blinking the fog of sleep from his mind. He found himself staring up at the ceiling from his cot, which was a blissful white contrast to the yellow that was seemingly everywhere else in the facility. He'd been in the hospital for roughly twenty-four hours he estimated-no, longer. That medication, whatever it was, had left him loopy for a few days. He dimly remembered a conversation, something he wasn't supposed to tell the doctor. Oh, it was coming back to him. Percy had told the doctor about the mythological world. He knew this was bad, knew it should worry him, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset by this, which also should have made him nervous but he couldn't bring himself to be nervous.

In fact, he felt happy. Not in an excessive, over the top way, just… Happy. And relaxed. And maybe a little bit tired. Similar to what people typically referred to as their vacation mode, he surmised. He hoped Annabeth was doing well. He wasn't worried since he just wasn't capable of being worried. He was just happy. By Percy's estimation, it was probably because of the medicine that had been given to him, and while that normally would've infuriated him, he was, and he knew he was starting to sound like a broken record, happy.

The raven haired teen swung his legs over the edge of his cot, then hesitated after he stood up since his legs momentarily buckled. He then proceeded to just be, relaxed and content in his peaceful surroundings. For about five seconds. Then his ADHD took over. He started drumming his fingers, tapping his foot, walking laps around the room, jogging in place. Percy was going to resort to counting the lines on his hands when a nurse finally walked in and handed him a tray of pancakes, just like the one he'd had a few days prior, and, by his estimation, the past few days, though he didn't really remember for certain.

He finished breakfast, gradually feeling more alert, a niggling of doubt forming in his mind as he worried over Annabeth, fearing what he'd told Dr. Baker and what it spelled for the Greek world. He knew he shouldn't have done that, but he was so hyped up on medication he wasn't thinking straight, and gods, how dare that woman take advantage of him in that state.

Percy was finished his breakfast when he saw there was once again a little white pill waiting for him by the edge of his tray. He sighed, knowing he was going to regret this later, but he also knew that if he didn't take the medicine now, there were likely less desirable ways that the doctors could give it to him, so he took the medicine.

Gradually Percy started to feel better. The tension slowly seeped out of his muscles, his worries seemed suddenly less pressing. He became happy, calm. He was a little sleepy, but he didn't mind. He got up, fiddled with his shirt and did various other trivial things to expend some of the excess energy his ADHD gave him, though it didn't seem quite as bad as usual. Time was no longer a restraint, since he had no concept of its passing inside the annoyingly yellow room, besides when the nurse brought him breakfast, lunch and dinner.

At some point, the nurse entered his room through the panel door along the one wall, saying it was time for him to go to his therapy session with Dr. Baker, to which he easily and obediently complied.

He sat down in the chair across from the doctor's desk, a cushy reading chair someone might find in a living room, and propped his feet up on her desk.

"Good to see you, Percy," she greeted, eying his feet, clad only in thick white socks, warily, "You're feeling all right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, maybe a little too eagerly, "I feel fine. Great, actually."

"That's good," the doctor murmured softly, likely more to herself than to Percy, then spoke up a little louder so she was clearly addressing him this time, "How are you liking your accommodations?"

"Oh, I like them just fine," Percy answer cheerily, "I mean they're not perfect, but I can live with that. Though the yellow is a little… Excessive. I prefer the color blue. But I can live with it."

Seemingly satisfied with his responses, the doctor scribbled some note down on her paper, then set the pen down, "That's good. We're sorry for the excessive yellow, but since most people link the color with happiness-"

The green eyed teen waved her off, "It's fine."

"That's good," Dr. Baker said with a smile, before her face grew more solemn, "I need you to tell me, why do you think Poseidon is your father?"

Percy's smile melted off of his face, though he didn't look visibly upset, then he spoke, more towards himself, "Right, you know about all of that."

He surveyed the room for a moment, as if deciding what to do, then gave the doctor a cheesy, lopsided smile and snapped his fingers, a look of somewhat intense concentration on his face, "Hey, so, you know nothing of the Greek world."

There was an almost transparent, mist-like substance that was emitted from his fingertips, which both he and the doctor could only just see. He looked satisfied, then glanced up at the doctor expectantly. When she watched him, confused and remained completely stoic and aware of what was happening, he frowned.

"I know I did it right this time-Crap. She's clear-sighted," realization dawned on the raven haired boy's face, though he still didn't seem particularly upset or worried, and he glanced, disgruntled, at the woman before him, "You're clear-sighted."

"Clear-sighted?" Dr. Baker asked, head tilted, hands folded neatly in front of her as she gave him a polite smile.

"Yeah, well, since there's no erasing this from your memory," the doctor gave the teen an alarmed look, which he quickly dismissed, "Might as well explain. Some mortals, like you, have the Sight. It allows people to see through the Mist, the barrier that separates our world from yours. Typically, clear-sighted mortals are creative, open-minded people, though not always. Any questions?"

By the end of the explanation, the teen was clearly mimicking professors in an over the top and dramatic way, not particularly caring about anything, since he'd been induced into a perpetually happy state.

Dr. Baker studied his facial expression, then pulled her pen from where she'd tucked in her mousy hair and scribbled something down, before turning back to the teen, a gleam in her eye, "So, let's start at the beginning. Can you explain in more detail why you think that your father's a god?"

Percy stared at her blankly, "He claimed me."

"How?"

"Well, to summarize, he made a glowing green trident appear over my head," the teen was still giving her a blank why-are-you-asking-these-weird-questions look.

"And how did he do that?" the doctor pressed.

"Because he's a god," Percy shifted positions in his chair, bringing his feet off the psychologist's desk and drumming his fingers on his leg.

"You father is not a god, Percy," Dr. Baker gave him a sympathetic smile, and his thoughts, which felt more like syrup than thoughts, focused on trying to make her understand.

"Yes, he is. He's Poseidon, god of the sea."

"No, Percy," the doctor shook her head sadly, "According to your birth certificate, your father was a man named Louis Jackson, he died at sea when you were a month old. It was quite tragic, actually. Apparently, he'd owned an up and coming marine biology practice and was researching when a storm came by. Regardless, though, he's not a god."

Percy rolled his eyes at her obliviousness, "That's just a story fabricated by the Mist. It's not true, my dad's a god."

Leaning back in her chair, the doctor thought for a moment, then stared Percy in the eyes, "Think about this from my perspective. I've lived every day of my life living a fairly normal existence, and then, I meet you, and you tell me that there are monsters walking among us and that the Greek gods are real. It sounds a bit crazy, doesn't it?"

The teen shrugged, brushing a few locks of black hair out of his eyes, "It may sound crazy, but it's true. My dad's a god."

Sighing, the mousy-haired woman settled in for what was sure to be a long session, "Tell me about your dad."

Percy took a deep breath, then exhaled heavily out his nose, marveling at the obliviousness of mortals, "I just told you like five minutes ago, he's Poseidon, god-"

"No," Dr. Baker cut in sharply, much to his aggravation, "Tell me about your father."

"He's the god-" Once again, Percy was cut off, and his fingers twitched before his medication took over again and forcibly stopped the little bit of aggravation that had been growing in his mind.

"No, your father was not a god, Percy," the doctor's tone was gentle, but left no room for argument, "Tell me about your father."

The cycle continued for what Percy estimated to be about two or so hours, but with his ADHD, it was difficult for him to keep track of time, so it could've been only forty minutes or as long as four hours. But after a long and tedious session of being told that no, his father was not a god, it seemed that the doctor had finally tired of the fruitless exercise and let him return to his room (or was it cell?), which, while boring, at least wasn't stupidly annoying.


	11. Chapter 11

**Bam. Another chapter. This one's a little longer than usual, but I doubt you guys will complain. The next chapter will probably more development, but then things will hopefully start moving a little more. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and stay awesome.**

**-ROC6**

"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the phone line answered, a hint of confusion coloring their tone.

"Chiron, this is Sally Jackson," a hint of concern was coloring the caller's tone, "We have a problem."

Sally Jackson had known the instant her son hadn't checked in with her by four that something was seriously wrong. Percy always checked in with her by four if he was doing something after school. He knew she worried, she was always keeping an eye out for his safety, so he always made the effort to keep her posted on his whereabouts. As much as he could, anyway. Sometimes, like that incident in Chinatown, he had no idea where he was going to end up. Still, he always told her if he wasn't coming home right away.

Today, she had not received any word.

There was a muffled sigh from the other end of the line, at Camp Half-Blood, "What has happened?"

Sally relayed the story to him, how Percy and Annabeth hadn't reported back to her. She explained how they never showed for dinner, how she'd feared the worst. Then, at roughly seven, she'd received a phone call, somehow both ambiguous and detailed at the same time, explaining how her son had been checked into a mental hospital for depression, anxiety, and violent tendencies, among other things. Only, the caller failed to mention what hospital.

Thankfully, Chiron understood the gravity of the situation, realizing that if they were in a mental hospital, they were likely unarmed and heavily medicated, thus spelling a death sentence should any monsters find them. Not to mention that they could theoretically reveal the existence of the mythological world to mortals, which could prove troublesome, even with the Mist's intervention. To top it all off, they were likely separated, and with their recent trip through the darkest pit of the underworld, well, to put it simply, things likely wouldn't end well.

"I plan to do some research," Sally was talking with her hands even though the centaur couldn't see it, "But I know you may have other means of locating them. I'll let you know if anything changes."

She heard what sounded like a muffled thud over the line, and another voice in the background a moment later, sounding out of breath, "Chiron, something exploded in Bunker Nine and the woods caught on fire. The dryads are already in revolt after last time, they're threatening to ban campers from the woods."

There was a pause, followed by a sigh, then the centaur apologized, a tired note in his voice, "I'm sorry, but I have to go-"

"It's fine," she assured, "I'll let Mr. Chase know, too. Just let me know if you find anything that could help me bring Annabeth and Percy home."

**-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-**

The last few weeks were sort of a blur for Sally Jackson. She had spent every spare moment, when she wasn't editing her new novel slated for release in four weeks or running errands or anything of the sort, researching mental facilities in the surrounding area. There were surprisingly many nearby, but after roughly a week's worth of researching, she was able to pinpoint that her son had been checked into a facility by the name of Happy Hills, and she assumed that Annabeth was being kept in the same facility. After extensive research on their practices, She had notified Chiron and Mr. Chase of her findings, neither of which were thrilled by the methods and high success rate of the facility. Sally had called to see if she could visit her son, but they didn't allow visitors within the first six weeks of treatment, claiming that it would hinder the recovery process.

Finally, though, the day had come and she felt Paul squeeze her hand as they walked towards the blocky white building in front of them. The architecture was tasteful, with plenty of windows around the lobby area, but after that, they tapered off. The lawn was well kept, there appeared to be no garden and only a few trees dotting the land. The building was boasting an overly cheery sign dubbing it Happy Hills, adorned with some cheesy slogan. Upon entering the lobby, she was relatively unsurprised to find it decorated with white furniture, excepting the walls, which were a cheery, pastel yellow. In all honesty, it mostly resembled a typical hospital waiting room, with TVs stationed in each corner and enough seats to fill a classroom.

The receptionist, a young man with brown hair that fell in his eyes and charming smile greeted her cheerily, "Hello, welcome to Happy Hills, how may I help you today?"

Her husband gave her hand another comforting squeeze, and she took a deep breath. She didn't know where she'd be without him.

"Hi, I'm Sally Jackson, and this is my husband Paul Blofis," she pasted a smile on her face, "We're here because we have a visitation appointment with my son Percy Jackson."

Sally sincerely hoped this visit went well. All rescue attempts were currently at a standstill, as no one knew what type of condition they were in, and until Percy and Annabeth's condition was assessed, it was unknown what type of rescue would need to be planned. If they were completely incapacitated, then there would need to be a completely different, much more complex plan than if they were, say, only minorly medicated.

The boy furrowed his brow for half a moment, glancing down at what she assumed was a computer screen, though it was hidden by the edge of the desk. After a momentary wait and a few clicks, he glanced back up at her through his bangs, a broad smile on his face, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jackson. Follow me, he's right this way."

He moved out from behind the desk, moving towards a set of double doors on the opposite side of the room from where they entered. Once they exited the lobby, a pair of what she assumed were guards began trailing a few steps behind them. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach when she considered why they might need guards. The hallway they were being led down was incredibly sterilized and, like most hospitals, smelled of cleaning fluids. The walls were once again yellow, with everything else, including the periodic doors, a stark white. From somewhere off in the facility, she could hear screaming, and the whole place was making her feel incredibly uneasy.

"He's all right," Paul assured her softly from where he was following her a half step behind, briefly resting his hand on her shoulder. She once again thanked the gods for sending this wonderful man her way as some of the nerves that had been building in her ebbed ever so slightly.

The receptionist, who'd introduced himself as Daniel, blissfully quit the babbling he'd been doing while he'd led them through the complex, stopping in front of a door that looked completely identical to every other door they'd passed, "This is where you'll be meeting Percy, he'll arrive shortly. I'll be back to collect you in fifteen minutes. Oh, and there will be guards stationed outside each of the doors for the sake of the patient's recovery."

He waved them off with a chipper smile, then retreated down the hallway as the door slid shut. The room they'd been led into was small, maybe the size of a walk-in closet or Sally's old apartment's kitchen, and, like everything else they'd passed in the facility, it had pastel yellow walls, with everything else, including the tiny couch positioned across from a fluffy chair in the center of the room, a stark white. After taking note of the cameras located in each of the corners of the room, Sally realized that Paul had chosen to sit on the couch. Cautiously, she joined him.

He slung an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, and she leaned into him. They sat in a tense silence for a few beats, then the door opposite to the one they'd entered clanged open, and her son stumbled into the room.

Without a moment of hesitation, Sally Jackson jumped to her feet and swept her son into an embrace, murmuring into his shoulder, "Oh, Percy. I've missed you so much."

He hugged her tightly in return. After a few moments that made the whole process of scheduling the short meeting worth it, she stepped back, holding her son at an arm's length.

"Tell me everything," she commanded, examining him with a mother's eye.

His hair was starting to get shaggy, but it wasn't too horrible. By her estimation, he hadn't showered in while, though he'd definitely showered within three or four days. He was clad in white sweatpants, plush white socks and a yellow shirt with a breast pocket, which she could see the familiar outline of his sword within, something that comforted her immensely even if it could do nothing to help him out of his current situation. He hadn't lost any of the weight that he'd managed to gain back onto his frame since his trip through the underworld in July, though he was still thinner than she'd like. He looked like he'd been sleeping well, something that surprised her since he hadn't really slept well since Tartarus.

He relayed her to her how he and Annabeth had been attacked by hellhounds, then taken to the mental facility. How he'd woken up in isolation, how the doctors thought he was crazy. He was just describing his daily therapy sessions when Sally deemed him healthy enough and looked up to meet his gaze. Besides the obvious fact that he was holding something back, his eyes concerned her. They were duller than usual and slightly unfocused to look at.

"Percy," she asserted once he'd finished telling her everything he'd wanted to, "What sort of medication do they have you on?"

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, "It's, uh, some form of antidepressant, I think? I'm not sure. It makes me always feel tired, though. And I haven't been able to feel anything but happy since they started it."

Not particularly thrilled, but unimpressed nonetheless, Sally coaxed, a steely undercurrent in her tone, "And what aren't you telling me?"

What seemed to be guilt flashed across his face, but was quickly replaced with a grin that was just a little too wide and most definitely not his, "Just, remember, I was really out of it since they started the medication. As in, they stopped therapy for a few days I was so out of it."

His mother crossed her arms, pursing her lips slightly, but she seemed more worried than annoyed.

"I couldn't think straight," he commented, then in a rush, "I think it makes me more susceptible to suggestion, like hypnotism or something, because she got it out of me. I told her. Everything."

Sally wanted to sigh, knowing that this made things infinitely more difficult, but she reached forward and hugged her son again, "It's alright, baby. It's alright."

He smiled at her, seeming a little more comfortable.

Of course, just then a nurse appeared in the doorway, announcing that it was time for Percy to return to his room.

Barely sparing the nurse a glance, Sally asked, "Have you seen Annabeth? How is she?"

He only shook his head, though she knew he would've been more distraught in his right mind, looking uneasy, the most negative emotion she'd seen from him in the visit, "No idea. I haven't seen her since the hellhound attack."

The nurse announced that they need to finish up now, and Sally gave him one last hug, whispering to him before they pulled apart, "I told her parents what's happening, and I contacted Chiron to let him know what's going on. We're trying to get you out of here, baby, just hold on."

When they pulled apart after a few moments, the nurse escorted Percy back to his room, and he was out of her grasp once more.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey peeps, how you guys doing? This is the last developmental chapter, you guys will be happy to hear, it kicks up sharply from here. And yes, I'm aware you all want longer chapters (or at least some of you do) and I'm working on it, but this chapter honestly didn't need to be that long, and adding words would've only wasted both of our time since the point was relatively simple. I hope you peeps are okay with that. In other news, this story recently broke 100 reviews, so thank you guys so much, that's probably the best reception I've gotten for a story (relative to the time I've been uploading it). Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome.**

Every day since she'd been put on the injection medicine, Annabeth had been having a therapy session with the doctor. For the most part, they'd been going well, though she, personally, didn't think that the doctor was making much headway, not even that time that Annabeth had freaked out because she thought she saw a spider on the wall. Everything was fine, though. It was only a shadow.

She was lying on the floor in the center of the room, her hair fanned around her head like some sort of matted halo. She was gazing in the direction of the ceiling, idly scratching at her right arm, which was swollen, covered with what seemed like faint bruises and adorned with a smattering of tiny, itchy red dots from being injected with medicine daily. She was in a dreamlike state, alert yet drowsy at the same time.

The doctor, during the therapy, kept trying to tell her that her mother wasn't Athena, goddess of wisdom, and instead the owner of a successful architectural firm, but Annabeth knew better than to believe her, even when the doctor tried, occasionally, to convince her that her nightmares of Tartarus were actually her subconscious trying to "break free of Percy's abusive tendencies". She knew better, though. Percy would never hurt her. He loved her.

The first time he'd told her that, it had been when they were video chatting each other while she was going to school in California, and he'd been so surprised when he'd said it that he fell out of his chair.

She laughed, and it echoed around the room. Even to her ears, it sounded strange. Off kilter. Mad. She chuckled softly to herself. Maybe she really was going insane.

The wall panel slid away, and a nurse came in carrying her breakfast.

Annabeth clamored to her feet, taking the tray from the woman's hands, "Here, Maria, let me take that. How have you been?"

The nurse watched her carefully, giving her a worried, wary smile, "Good, Annabeth. Thanks for asking."

The daughter of Athena hummed in acknowledgment as the woman left the room, placing her tray of pancakes on her tiny table. She ate them plain, remembering how good Percy's mother's pancakes tasted. She missed Sally. Her heart ached. She missed Percy.

As though something had flipped a switch, her thoughts turned abruptly towards a happier, more calming topic, which happened to be her pancakes. She brought another forkful to her mouth. She didn't really mind their blandness, though she did miss syrup. Unfortunately, she wasn't allowed to have any since she'd tried using it to draw blueprints on the walls.

As she finished eating, she felt a headache coming on, something she'd grown accustomed to happening. She got up and slowly made her way towards her bed. Then again, any movement since they'd started the medicine was slow, since she always felt as though she was moving through jello and she was always so tired. Her bones always seemed to ache with exhaustion, anymore.

She sat heavily on the bed, using her index and middle fingers to rub circles on her temples as the headache grew increasingly more insistent. She always had a headache, lately, leading up to when she was injected with her medicine.

As her head began to switch from aching to pounding, she stopped rubbing circles and instead pressed the heels of her palms to her temples. She stayed like that for a few minutes as the sledgehammer beat the inside of her skull, leading her to idly wonder if this was what her grandfather felt like before her mother was freed, when she felt the hands of a nurse on her right arm. The nurse, whom she assumed was Maria, since it definitely wasn't that guy nurse that had tried to grope her that one time, gently removed her hand from her head and slid something that looked oddly similar to a rubber band onto her arm.

The nurse waited a few moments for the band to stem the blood flow enough for Annabeth's veins to begin to appear, then pulled a needle from somewhere in her scrubs. She selected one of the few veins on Annabeth's arm that hadn't been stabbed yet, and carefully inserted the needle. Annabeth didn't even notice the prick anymore, instead focusing on the feeling she received as the medicine rushed into her veins. Within moments, her headache had cleared.

Straightening, the daughter of Athena smiled at the nurse, who was, indeed, Maria. In return, the woman, who appeared to have Italian heritage, gave her a sad smile, her eyes heavy with an emotion that Annabeth knew was pity. Annabeth hated pity. But Maria had been nice to her so far, so she simply acted as though she didn't know the nurse pitied her.

The nurse, for her part, was friendly, as she placed the empty syringe on the tray that had previously housed Annabeth's pancakes, this time commentating on the new exhibit being brought to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It wasn't long until Annabeth was alone again, lying on her cot.

She took a deep breath, bitterly happy at her constant happiness. She emitted another chuckle, this one directed at herself and her current state, somehow finding it funny that she was stuck helplessly inside a hospital for the insane when it was the hospital itself that she thought was sending her there.

Eventually, though, sleep claimed her weary mind, since she'd been up the entire night staring at the ceiling, and she easily allowed herself to drift off into the blissfully abstract dream world.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey peeps, back again. I would like to acknowledge that this chapter is the largest contribution of my editor, ell13. She actually did a lot of work on this chapter (granted with me breathing metaphorically down her neck), and as a result, I must give her a lot of the credit for it. That's also why you might notice the writing style is slightly different. With that, I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome.**

**-ROC6**

By all means, it was a typical meeting in the Rec Room. The Stolls were tossing cheese curls into Seymour's mouth. Leo was constructing a miniature fort out of plastic spoons and tapping out what seemed to be a tune in Morse code. Will was chatting amicably to Malcolm, who had been reading a book on medical science. A group of completely normal monster-fighting, demigod teenagers hanging out at camp.

Then Chiron walked in, and the mood dropped as deep as Percy and Annabeth fell into Tartarus (too soon?). The centaur's morbid expression gave a clear message to the counselors. With the stress lines etched in his forehead and the grim frown bending his mouth, it could only signify an upcoming conflict. The campers were immediately put on edge. If there was another world crisis to be solved, then they were exhausted. The life of a half-blood was never easy, but was asking for at least more than a year between world crises too much?

Silence engulfed the room as they were left to ponder what news Chiron would bring.

"Well… don't leave us hanging here," Connor remarked, finally voicing everyone's thoughts.

Chiron inhaled deeply, "Percy and Annabeth have been wrongly interred into a mental hospital. They've been confined at Happy Hills: Correctional Facility for the Mentally-Troubled Youth for six weeks."

15 pairs of eyes stared unblinkingly at their activities director, their expressions devoid of emotion.

Then, "Ay, great joke! I never knew you had it in you, Chiron, leading us on like that. Aha!" Connor grinned around brightly at his fellow counselors as if expecting them to burst into laughter with him. They turned their gazes to him, exasperated.

"My bro, I think this isn't a joke," Travis responded.

Connor had the decency to appear partially embarrassed, but was more shocked if anything, exclaiming, "Wait, it isn't?!"

"I'm afraid not," Chiron intoned with melancholy.

Clarisse stood up, her chair screeching backward about a yard, "Then why couldn't you have told us earlier? If we had known what was going on, we could've stormed in, bashed a couple heads, and tow those two idiots out of there in a day!"

"We needed more time to gather information," Chiron replied, his voice strained, "Of course, we wanted to send help immediately after we knew what happened, but there wasn't much we could do without first knowing where they were and before having information on the mental institution."

"Okay, we need to stay _calm_ here-" Piper announced, but was interrupted by Leo.

"To be fair," he retorted, "it's a little difficult to be calm when our friends have been kidnapped."

"So we need a _plan_! We'll think of something, and we'll get them out of there. But to do that, we can't panic."

"About that: do we just so happen to have a dozen of mental institution infiltration plans on hand?" Travis asked.

"Fine, so this may not be the typical 'quest' we're sent on, but comparing this to what we've had to face in the past, I believe we can do it," she announced, "For the sake of the two people who I admire more than anything, we have to pull ourselves together and do this."

"What's our plan, then?" Clarisse asked, arms crossed, "Since obviously we can't go in and just storm the place."

"Forcing our way in will not help in this situation, or even prove detrimental," Chiron inputted, "Perhaps the best approach is to be as quick and quiet about it as possible. The fewer disruptions we cause, the better."

"Pull them out right under their noses," Leo nodded, "Take 'em back and leave without a trace."

"I believe we have the _perfect_ team for that," Malcolm announced. Smiles tentatively began working their way onto the campers' faces. The plan, now, seemed so much clearer.

Piper, with her charmspeak, could negotiate her way through any of the security and personnel at the asylum, and play the role of anyone she wished. She was a given choice for the operation. To transport Percy and Annabeth away from Happy Hills, Nico would position himself outside, where he would shadow travel the group to safety without the risk of getting caught himself within the institution. That was already two people for the operation, but having only Piper to infiltrate and break out two people would prove difficult.

"Do you think the Romans would be willing to help us out?" asked Lou Ellen.

If there was any other demigod key to this plan, it was Hazel. With her ability to manipulate the Mist, she would greatly assist with the effort to remove Percy and Annabeth from Happy Hills and would bring the number of participants to three for this endeavor. Regardless of the strange circumstances, they figured this would be considered a proper "quest," and should thus be treated as such.

"I wouldn't doubt it," answered Will, "I know they have their own things to do, but I figure they would definitely offer their time for something like this."

"So we should call up the Romans?"

"We should call up the Romans."

A new sense of determination filled the room as they realized how theoretically doable this rescue mission was. All they had to do was actually carry it out successfully, and their friends would be freed. Unfortunately, they came to realize as they hashed out the details, it was easier said than done. After all, they were still talking about breaking into a mental institution. Nevertheless, after an hour or two work out the details, the plan seemed relatively solid, and the demigods left the Rec Room significantly calmer. Assuming the Romans agreed to help, they'd probably be ready to go in a couple of days.

They just had to hope their leaders would hold on that long.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hola. Another week, another chapter. Nothing interesting there, I guess. Uh, I have no fantabulous news for you all, so I hope you guys enjoy and stay awesome.**

**-ROC6**

To be entirely honest, Piper felt kind of let down by the Happy Hills mental hospital. She'd spent so much time studying pilfered blueprints, planning the infiltration and going over every possible detail of their plan that the facility didn't really live up to the image in her head. She didn't expect barbed wire fences or anything, she knew that was unrealistic, but still. She expected something… More. For a facility that held two of the most skilled demigods she knew, it was relatively unimpressive.

The lobby was nice enough, it gave off an aura like that of any hospital waiting room. Pristine white couches, wooden end tables, a white carpet. Yellow walls lined with flatscreens depicting a weathered looking young couple hiking up some mountains. There was a young man working behind the desk, typing away at a computer. He'd looked up inquisitively when they walked past, but after a quick smile from Hazel his eyes had glazed over and he returned to his work.

The two demigods were now working their way down the first hallway, where they knew their friends were located. It was a wing for young, high school age patients that would likely need long-term care. So far, unfortunately, Piper and Hazel weren't having much luck, growing increasingly tense as they felt the weight of their infiltration weighing down on them. The mission was meant to be quick, efficient and, hopefully, undetected. They had Nico, the son of Hades and their third member, stationed outside the facility so he could shadow travel the party away when they hopefully successfully rescued their friends. Again, hopefully.

Piper sighed as they passed the room of _Lee, Nathan _and then _Adams, Jonathan._ She and Hazel were so distracted that they almost skipped the door after _Harley, Julia_, but at the last minute they remembered to check, and a flash of adrenaline flooded Piper's body. They had found the room of _Jackson, Perseus_. Hazel glanced over at the next nameplate, and just as they'd been informed, it read _Chase, Annabeth_. Piper grinned, and Hazel returned a hesitant smile. It was time to continue on to the next phase of their plan.

The demigods began meandering down the hall as if they had no idea where they were going. Occasionally they exchanged a comment or a laugh to add a casual, self-deprecating air to the endeavor, hoping to run into another person. They'd just turned a corner when they spotted a man approaching. He was tall and lanky, with a lumbering gait and an average face, and clad in the same yellow scrubs as the ones Piper and Hazel had borrowed and replicated.

"Oh, hey," Piper greeted with an embarrassed smile, pretending to bump into him by accident as she looked out at him from under her lashes, then gestured to herself and Hazel, "We're new around here. Do you think you could help us out?"

The nurse stared at her blankly, and she mentally groaned, already aware that he was not going to make this easy for them.

"We're trying to find the room of a-" the daughter of Aphrodite pretended to hesitate, waving her hands as she pretended to search for the name.

"Perseus," Hazel commented, falling into character, just as they'd rehearsed seemingly a thousand times before.

"Oh, yes," Piper forced a chuckle, "Percy Jackson. Do you think you could show us?"

The nurse continued to give them a blank look, causing Piper to have severe difficulties in restraining her urge to slap him, but right when she was about to give up on him he opened his mouth, "Why are you two working together?"

Glancing at her fellow demigod, Piper improvised, "It's a new program to help nurses find their way on their first day. Obviously, it's not working."

After another impassive look that left Piper's pulse thundering through her veins, the nurse finally relented, "Alright. Follow me."

Singing his praises, Piper and Hazel followed him back the way they'd come until he plodded to a stop and unceremoniously announced that they'd arrived.

After pretending to search her clothes for a set of keys, Piper announced that she must have forgotten them and turned to Hazel, who said that she didn't have hers since Piper said she'd carry the keys. Pasting a strained smile on her face, the Cherokee demigod turned back to the nurse, who'd been watching the exchange with his usual unimpressed expression and crossed arms.

"_Could we have your keys for a moment?_" Piper layered the charmspeak on heavily, batting her eyelashes and trying to force a flush to her cheeks.

The man's eyes slowly clouded over, and he moved sluggishly, as though in a trance, pulling his lanyard, decorated with tiny superheroes, over his head and handing it to Piper.

"Oh, thank you, thank you so much," she waved her hands as she spoke, distracting him from the look of immense concentration that had clouded over Hazel's golden gaze.

Abruptly, the nurse's confused expression slackened and he turned, lumbering back down the hallways the way he had come, as though nothing had ever happened. Hazel offered Piper an anxious smile, and she tried to look reassuring. Everything was going according to plan so far, but with the luck of demigod, Piper knew that was unlikely to last.

The pair turned towards the door, flipping through the keys on the lanyard until they found what looked like a universal key card, which they tried testing on the door's lock. The tiny blinking light above the lock blinked an angry red, and Piper felt a flash of anxiety as she tried again, flipping the card over. The light, thankfully, flashed green, and there was an audible click as the door unlocked.

After exchanging a brief look with Hazel, Piper took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open. The room was plain, Piper noticed, comprised of an overly enthusiastic paint job and minimalistic furniture. One wall of the room was entirely a mirror, and the lighting throughout the room was overly harsh. Piper mentally winced at the thought of spending an extended period of time within the room. The floor was tile, and the furniture that was present looked incredibly uncomfortable. She took all this in during the course of a few moments, as her attention was immediately drawn to the room's sole occupant.

Lying on the room's small, barren cot lay the teenage boy she recognized as Percy Jackson, absently drumming his fingers. Any of his tan that he'd regained since his time in Tartarus had faded, leaving his skin unhealthily pale again, but otherwise, he seemed fairly healthy upon first glance. His cheeks weren't hollow, his bones couldn't be seen through his skin. When Piper started looking a little closer, she noticed that the confinement had caused the atrophy of some of his muscle mass. His hair was really shaggy, and there was a scruffy shadow along the line of his jaw.

Glancing over at Hazel, she and Piper silently started moving forward together. By this point, Percy had to know they were there. Yet there he sat, idly staring at the ceiling as though he was unaware of their presence. Piper felt her brow furrow as she thought over the facts. The were maybe a yard from the bed he was lying on, yet he still hadn't responded. Something was obviously wrong.

They were close enough she could clearly make out his expression, and realization began to dawn over her. His posture was relaxed, and a complacent, childlike smile adorned his face. Percy's eyes stared blankly upwards, a dull garbled green that reminded her of watered down paint.

"Percy," Piper ventured tentatively.

His eyes narrowed slightly, lips twitching downwards in a frown and almost immediately, a sudden change took hold of his expression, slackening his face until he was staring blankly again.

"Percy," Piper called again, a steely note pitching into her voice, "Percy, we've come to rescue you."

Sluggishly, the son of Poseidon sat up, blinking uncomprehendingly at Piper and Hazel as they could see him attempting to think through the haze of medication that filled his bloodstream.

"Piper? Hazel?" A light of thought entered his gaze, then a grin broke out on his face, "Piper, Hazel! You're here."

They offered weak grins, disoriented by the sudden liveliness in his voice.

His expression switched again, this time a disorienting, unreadable smile, "Where's Annabeth?"

"Her room's right next door," Piper offered, "We're going there next."

His grin faded slightly, seemingly more strained, a higher note coming into his voice, "You rescued me first?"

"Percy," Hazel broke in, "It works better this way."

He opened his mouth to object, but the daughter of Pluto continued, her golden gaze flashing elsewhere, "You can heal yourself with water, correct?"

The son of Poseidon nodded, "Yeah, but I don't see-"

"Have you tried using the sink water to get the medication out of your system?"

His mouth dropped open in a perfect 'o', and he smiled giddily, "No, actually-"

Piper had walked over to the sink and turned the faucet on, staring pointedly at the cameras in the four corners of the room, "Quick, heal yourself, we need to keep moving."

Percy did as instructed, and Piper could see the dullness fade from his eyes and the change in his stance. He blinked a few times, orienting himself, and she caught him wincing, though he ignored her questioning look.

Surveying the room impassively, Piper could see Percy resurfacing, and less than a moment later he turned to Piper and Hazel, just as they remembered him, "Alright. Let's go free Annabeth."


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey-o everyone-o. How's it go? I know you peeps have been wanting longer chapters, but as I warned you in the beginning, this story was mostly pre-written, so it's hard to magically add longer chapters. Sorry. I have heard you guys, though, and I'm taking it to heart for the next story I write to try to make all the chapters at least 2000 words or more. Not that many of you guys will probably care, but I wanted to let you all know that I have heard you, honestly. With that said, I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome.**

**-ROC6**

Percy shifted his weight impatiently from foot to foot as Piper unlocked Annabeth's door, ignoring the slight pounding in his head. He kept glancing over his shoulder, looking for some unknown danger, even if no one was there. The door unlocked with a click, and he found himself picturing Annabeth's bright smile and golden locks, and the look she always got in her eyes when her mind was a thousand miles beyond the stars.

Piper pushed the door open and trotted inside, Percy and Hazel following shortly behind. Looking around, Piper suppressed a gasp, and Percy's frustration was evident on his face.

"She's not here," he stated blandly.

Hazel tried to interject, "Percy-"

He wasn't hearing it, "She's not here. How could she not be here?"

Suddenly there was a clicking noise and the door to the room opened, revealing a short, Italian nurse with dark, glossy hair. She was humming softly to herself as she juggled various cleaning solutions and washcloths in her arms, not even glancing up as she lapsed into a familiar habit as she danced across the room to the only table, dropping her armful of supplies upon it with a soft _thunk_. When she did glance up, her mouth fell open in a silent shout, and her dark eyes widened in a way that would've been vaguely comical in another situation.

Percy and Piper both glanced at Hazel, who was staring softly at the woman, whose eyes had a slight sheen to them. The woman walked right past Percy as though he wasn't there, stopping directly in front of Piper and Hazel.

"What are you doing in here?" she demanded, though she didn't seem angry. Her brow was knit and her eyes dark.

"We're the new nurses," Hazel gazed sweetly at her, "We were looking for Annabeth Chase?"  
The nurse didn't relax, but the glazed look in her eyes didn't fade either, "Annabeth was taken to therapy twenty minutes ago."

Piper flashed what she hoped was a charming grin, "Thank you. What room is that again?"  
The nurse hesitated, but Piper's magic washed over her, "Office 14D."

"Thank you," the daughter of Aphrodite responded before glancing pointedly over at Hazel, "_The room was empty when you arrived. You started cleaning as usual._"

"I started cleaning as usual," the woman muttered softly, drifting away from the demigods as though they were never there.

The threesome slipped softly out the door, and Percy turned to look at the others, "Where is office 14D?"

"This way, follow me," Piper urged, thankful Annabeth's half-brother had made her memorize the general layout of the facility.

Navigating the facility took roughly twenty minutes thanks to some wrong turns and run-ins with the staff of the facility, and though she was hiding it well, a tired glint had come into Hazel's eyes, since she'd been spending the entire time hiding their presence.

When they arrived outside the office, Percy instinctively reached for the knob, only to find a hand gripping his arm. He turned to Piper, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Wait," she whispered, "We can hear what they're saying."

The son of Poseidon hesitated, then nodded, glancing warily at the hallway around them.

"-as far as your boyfriend Percy?" They could hear Dr. Baker asking. Percy visibly tensed at her voice.

"That the nightmares are my subconscious personifying Percy's 'abusive tendencies'," there was a strange lilt in Annabeth's voice, and her speech was dragging, almost slurred, and Piper's hand instinctively glided to her dagger, despite it being of no use against mortals, "But I know it's not true. He loves me."

"Honey," the doctor sounded sympathetic, and Piper had the urge to open the door and slap the woman, but she restrained herself, "We've been over this. Percy doesn't love you. He _hurt_ you."

"No he didn't," the strange lilt still hadn't left.

There was a sigh, and the doctor switched subjects, "And what can you tell me about your mother?"

"She's the Greek goddess Athena," Piper definitely wasn't imagining it, there was a strange note in her voice, and Piper found herself watching Percy, surveying how he was reacting to listening in, though his expression was unreadable at the moment.

"I'm sorry, your mother is not Athena," the doctor said gently.

"Wait," Annabeth stopped to think, and Piper was seriously concerned at the amount of time that it took the demigod to finish her thought, "You want the other version, don't you?"

There was a pause again, before the daughter of Athena recited in an unsettlingly childlike manner, "My mother is Sophia Chase, owner of a small architectural firm in Virginia."

The tone of the statement suggested the demigod expected to be praised, but the doctor shifted the topic of the conversation in a manner that would've seemed bizarre and sudden to most, but Annabeth acted as though the new topic had always been what they were discussing.

"What of your headaches?" the doctor queried conversationally.

There was a pause, "What headaches?"

"The ones you kept reporting in the mornings?" the doctor prompted.

There was another pause, "I don't recall any headaches."

"The ones prior to being given your medicine?"

"Oh," the demigod giggled, causing the hair on the back of Piper's neck to stand up, "Those. They've been gone since you upped the medication yesterday."

"Three days ago," the doctor corrected softly.

There wasn't a response.

After another minute or so in which the only sounds from the other side of the door were the soft clicking of a keyboard, Piper turned her gaze from the door to Hazel, only to find the dark-skinned daughter of Pluto gazing right back at her. She could see a few beads of sweat shining on the younger demigod's forehead.

_Now?_ She mouthed silently, and Hazel nodded.

The daughter of Aphrodite turned to Percy, assuming he hadn't been watching, but she found him holding up three fingers, which he lowered slowly one by one. When his last finger lowered, the green-eyed demigod reached towards the doorknob without any visible hesitation, twisting the knob sharply and pressing the door open with a click, followed by the soft hiss of the hinges as the door slid open.


End file.
